


Buttons and Silk

by SmutKeeper



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Lingerie, M/M, Mirror Sex, Neurodiversity, Overstimulation, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28197390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutKeeper/pseuds/SmutKeeper
Summary: Aziraphale makes a promise to Crowley to try a bit of change in the bedroom.He feels a bit less confident of that decision once Crowley tells him what it is he wants him to wear.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 146
Collections: AJ’s personal faves, All Gifts Left In A Server For More Than A Fortnight, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Our Own Side





	Buttons and Silk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [childrenofthesun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/childrenofthesun/gifts).



> This was my gift for the Ineffable Kink Discord Server's winter gift exchange! My prompt was for mirror sex! 
> 
> Just a note that Aziraphale's anxiousness does not stem from fatphobia, nor is that theme mentioned in the fic.

It was Aziraphale’s turn to try something new. He’d made a promise to do so, and he had every intention of keeping it.

That being said, this may have been a mistake.

“Are you ready in there, angel?” Crowley called, voice softened by the closed bedroom door.

Aziraphale worried his lip and nervously smoothed his hands down his front out of habit, such as he had always done with his waistcoat, but now slipped down gossamer silk. The material felt cool and decadent, but also incongruous in its unfamiliarity. Might have also had something to do with it being deeply dark red. He frowned.

“I’m not sure this is going to be what you’re expecting,” Aziraphale confessed. “It’s not really my sort of…” he trailed off. “It’s not what I would have chosen for myself.”

A light chuckle. “Was a bit of the point, remember. It’s not your decision this time. It was mine.”

“Yes, well, while I’m certain this sort of thing would suit you famously,” Aziraphale huffed, “you may have made a slight misconception in what would work on me.”

“Can I come in? Decide that for myself?”

Aziraphale sighed fondly. “You won’t tell me anything but what I want to hear and we both know it.”

“Well, I do have _impeccable_ fashion sense, but when have I ever passed up an opportunity to poke fun?”

“Oh, all right. But just know that if I look silly, you have no one but yourself to blame.”

If it was bound to happen in either case, it was better to go and get it over with. Aziraphale opened the bedroom door with an air of finality, stepping back to allow Crowley room to slink inside and take in his failed attempt at fashion consultation. Aziraphale was grateful to see that even if he still wore his tight trousers and henley, at least he had forgone the glasses. Any attempt at hiding what Crowley truly thought would be written clearly in those expressive eyes.

Aziraphale spread his arms out at his side. “Well?”

“You have got to give me a bit more credit,” Crowley said, grin sharp and self-satisfied in a way Aziraphale found both enticing and infuriating in equal measure. “This suits you better than I could have even hoped.”

“Oh, now I know you’re just putting on airs. Look at this,” Aziraphale bemoaned, turning so that his back faced Crowley—completely exposed save all for his rear, framed in heart-shaped knickers that were as immodest as they were impractical. He looked over his shoulder to add, “I feel foolish.”

Crowley, whose jaw seemed to have lost its hinge, jolted with a start. “What? No, no, what are you talking about? This is exactly how I pictured it. Better than! Look here.”

He reached over to tug at Aziraphale’s shoulder, turning him so that they both faced towards the wall, so that when Crowley snapped they both stood before a floor length mirror. Crowley’s grin was entirely too smug for what the situation called for. Aziraphale laughed outright.

“Oh, good _heavens_ , no! No, no, that’s far worse,” Aziraphale said, face holly-red but smiling. It was one thing to be aware that one might look a bit silly, but to see straight-on just how indecent it was was another matter entirely! “You’ve had your fun. Well done, you. That’s more than enough!”

He spun to smother his laughter into Crowley’s chest and the demon obligingly wrapped his arms around him, holding him close in his embrace, chin coming to rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder. It did make it so that Aziraphale’s back didn’t feel quite so exposed, at least.

“Now, that’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Crowley said beseechingly. “I don’t think you’ve given it a proper chance, yet. There’s so much to appreciate.”

“You’re just staring at my arse, aren’t you.”

“It’s really a beautiful arse; all decked out in lace. I will tell you, again, that I have impeccable taste in clothing and you should never doubt me.”

“Can it really be considered clothing? It’s hardly scraps of fabric.”

Crowley hummed and idly pet the soft hair at Aziraphale’s nape. It was silent for a moment. He might have been lost in thought, or might just as likely been taking in the view, not that Aziraphale could tell the difference one way or another.

He was just about to nudge Crowley in the side when the demon spoke, unprompted. “Do you really not like it? You don’t have to wear it if you hate it so much. I would never make you.”

Aziraphale sighed and peeked back over his shoulder. He met Crowley’s bright yellow eyes in the reflection, waiting for him.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. Did he truly hate it? He certainly didn’t like it. But that was more to do with how it felt on him. And nothing at all to do with how it made Crowley _look_ at him. “I don’t like the color,” he admitted. “But I think, perhaps, it’s more the shock of it. I’ll get used to it.”

There was nothing smug about Crowley’s besotted grin this time. “You don’t mind trying a little longer?” he asked.

“I’m open to being persuaded,” Aziraphale agreed. “Change my mind?”

A fast and ardent kiss was pressed into the pale curls on the side of his head. “It would be my pleasure. Just let me lead, all right?” He maneuvered Aziraphale in his arms slowly, until they both easily faced the mirror once more. “You really are a vision, angel. Just look at you.”

“I’m more interested in what you see than I, dear.”

A flash of inspiration lit up Crowley’s continence, and Aziraphale almost felt regret for whatever inspiration he had wrought. It had been a long time since he was ever considered a muse. And Crowley’s plans could be... inventively questionable.

“I’ll tell you just what I see, then, shall I?” He brought his hands low around Aziraphale’s ribs so that they rested on his stomach, palms flat against where the sheer silk hung like curtains on either side. The slit that ran down the center flashed teasing peeks of pale skin and soft curves. Crowley let his hands settle there for a moment so that Aziraphale could adjust him if so desired, but when no such directive came he drifted, fingers light and aimless.

Crowley said, “I got you this one because it reminded me of your waistcoat.” This earned him a derisive snort, but he happily continued on, “It’s true! But you’re right, I did get the color all wrong.” A finger traced across the bottommost corner, and when he worried it between his thumb and forefinger, it shimmered until the entire garment had turned a honeyed-white, the likes of parchment. Crowley drew the fabric back as if turning the page of a book. Surprisingly, he had left the interior red.

The overall color change alone made Aziraphale feel more at ease, but the reverential treatment is what made the most tension bleed away. His back pressed more firmly against Crowley’s chest while the demon’s fingers traced poetry across Aziraphale’s skin.

“That feels more right, don’t it?” A slight nod, to which Crowley rewarded with a peck to the back of his ear. From there he whispered, “I can see as much. I never wanted you to be uncomfortable. Just the opposite, in fact; I want you spoiled. You deserve luxury. _Opulence_.”

Those ticklish fingers swept higher in their arcs, and the cool curtain of silk now felt delightful against Aziraphale’s warming skin. He sighed and allowed Crowley to kiss his neck sweetly, distractingly, until hands met at the rise of his breast and underneath each swell. The band was all that separated the flowing silk curtains from the lace brazzier above. Crowley made no move to sneak either beneath or above it.

Aziraphale's eyes fluttered as this pause brought him out of his daze. In the mirror, Crowley watched and waited until their gazes again locked.

"Crowley?"

"Just want you with me to see the whole show, angel." He gentled his tone by pressing his cheek to Aziraphale's ear. His voice rumbled pleasantly when he said, "Keep watching. You're doing great **."**

Feeling charmed but slightly off balance, Aziraphale hummed his assurance and kept his focus on the glass. There was certainly appeal to seeing Crowley's long, talented fingers holding his chest, he had to admit. He watched them avidly as they swept down along his front, teasing him with the glide of fabric across his skin, and then back up to where they began.

Crowley covered the center of the lace brazzier with the flat of his hand, said, “pay attention now,” and then drew away for the reveal.

A tiny, red apple—a button—now gleamed at the tip of that V. An idea sparked in Aziraphale’s mind at the image. He thought of an entirely different but not so situationally unrelated sort of button. The sort that he had just become very keenly aware of was in need of attention. Resisting the urge to clench tight his thighs took conscious willpower, although Crowley seemed to pick up on it, anyways.

Predator's eyes fixed on Aziraphale's face as Crowley very deliberately ran his fingertips up each side of the silk curtains, barely dragging but intentionally flashing hints of the red interior, and then meeting at that center. A pause. Slow; a fingertip traced lovingly across the button's slippery face. A well known pattern rubbed into the ruby surface. Aziraphale's exhale came out in a shaky gust.

"Yeah?" Crowley breathed.

" _Yes_ ," came the emphatic reply.

Aziraphale almost found himself disappointed when Crowley pulled him back and away from the mirror in order to lead them both to bed. They fell together across the blankets, but instead of being laid down onto the pillows, Crowley kept him sitting upright. Warm hands never left Aziraphale’s skin, nudging and petting in equal measure, until Crowley had him straddling his lap, facing away. His hands rested on Aziraphale’s hips. The gesture was probably meant to be innocuous, but bespoke to a degree of possessiveness, regardless. It was pleasant. Could do with a bit more, in fact.

Aziraphale wriggled, not at all necessarily, to better distribute his weight. If that had the side effect of rubbing his lacy posterior against Crowley’s lap, well, that was just a fortuitous coincidence. As was the way it made Crowley’s fingers curl into the giving flesh of his sides.

“Keep that up and you’ll have me ruining my pants before we even get to the fun part,” he warned. But he must not have been too bothered by the prospect as he did nothing else to dissuade the soft rubbing between their bodies, warmed more by the friction of their clothes.

“This would only be further proof of prudence to ridding yourself of them before such a fate befalls them,” Aziraphale replied, and was rewarded with a sharp nip to his shoulder for his cheek. They laughed together, unhurried and gentle while their bodies rocked. The need between Aziraphale’s thighs ached heartbeat-sore. So badly he wanted Crowley to touch him there.

He thought perhaps he would get his wish when Crowley moved to raise his hand. _Snap!_ And suddenly the backs of Aziraphale’s thighs and bum were pressed to bare skin instead of rough denim. And from across the room, the mirror that they had left alone now came to press against the foot of the bed, nearly between Aziraphale’s spread knees.

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale asked, tone far more hopeful than it had been at the start.

“Still good?”

“Yes, dear. Do carry on.”

Crowley shifted up, causing his hard cock to rub up against Aziraphale as he did so, and peered over his shoulder. They made quite the striking image; Crowley’s legs folded up underneath Aziraphale, who sat astride his lap boldly, knees pressing into the blankets and feet tucked up against Crowley’s sides. The white lingerie didn't feel so garish now in the thick of it. At least Crowley seemed very well pleased.

“There we go,” he cooed, breath tickling Aziraphale’s skin and causing him to shudder. The silk shimmered fetchingly with the movement. “Like I said: a vision. I can still hardly believe you’ve given yourself to me.”

Aziraphale’s face felt flushed. He closed his eyes. “H-hardly a prize,” he dithered, “unless one appreciates such things.”

“I think it’s safe to say that I _appreciate_ you,” Crowley said, and punctuated his statement with a more forceful thrust of his hips. “More than a bit.”

Crowley’s cock, hot and leaking, kissed the skin just above Aziraphale’s knickers. A drooling drop of pre-come lingered there, sensitizing his skin further and igniting his lust. Crowley desired him so ardently, and his head still spun with this knowledge each time as if it were new.

“I know you do, darling,” Aziraphale said. “I love you, too.”

Crowley’s breath hitched and he groaned into Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Stop trying to one-up me, angel. I’m working up to something here.”

Aziraphale laughed and opened his eyes. In the mirror, he could see the tips of Crowley’s ears had gone nearly as red as his hair. Endeared, Aziraphale felt his heart swell and the anxiousness taper off once more. Change was difficult but not always bad. He trusted that Crowley would guide them through it.

“Go on, then. Where were you leading me?”

There was a grumble from the vicinity of his shoulder blade. Then directly into his ear, “I want you to just be good for me, like you always are, needling me aside. And I want you to see just how much of a gift that really is.”

Golden eyes roved over Aziraphale’s body in the reflection, settling in on the red apple button on Aziraphale’s chest. One of his hands snaked its way around his midsection, meandering slowly on its way to this goal.

But instead of playing with it a second time, Crowley moved to take a full palm of Aziraphale’s tit. He chuckled when Aziraphale inhaled sharply in surprise.

“I live for those sounds of yours,” Crowley murmured. “I love surprising you. With dinner, or a book. But especially in bed. Because when the surprise is good…”

The fondling hand slipped beneath the lace barrier and circled Aziraphale’s nipple. Maddeningly, not being able to see Crowley’s fingers touch him was driving him to distraction. He could feel it all so clearly and yet still felt strangely cheated. An added level of temptation that Aziraphale hadn’t anticipated but did a number on his desire. He wriggled his hips in frustration.

“Yessssss,” Crowley hissed. “Just like that. So beautiful when you’re desperate.”

While the one hand continued to torture his tit, the other made its appearance on his other side. This one made no detour before zeroing in on the button.

“Not v-very subtle of you,” Aziraphale told him archilly.

“Wasn’t aiming for subtlety. Was very much aiming for you agreeing to let me finger you. Seems to be working out for me insofar as my plans usually go.”

Aziraphale groaned wretchedly and ground back against Crowley in retaliation. “Well, seeing as your hands are up there instead of down where they _should_ be, perhaps you had best reevaluate.”

Crowley cackled. “You trying to ask me for something, angel?”

Deft fingers circled the button and his nipple. His resolve broke in short order.

“ _Please_ , Crowley. Stop teasing me. I can’t stand it.”

"As you wish."

True to his word, Crowley abandoned Aziraphale's chest and sought lower. Aziraphale squirmed as the silk rubbed his skin like the striking of a match. Heat and nerves flared bright inside of him, and the flames glowed in his already reddened cheeks. It felt a bit like being slowly immolated and he did not wish for it to stop.

Hands massaged his flanks, his thighs—coming closer with each pass, until finally the edge of a nail brushed lace and remained. Aziraphale felt compelled to continue watching their reflections as Crowley inched closer, rather than look down. Something about the change in perspective was a mesmerizing force.

Crowley gave a broken moan as he finally felt along the damp crease of Aziraphale's sex. He rubbed into the lace until the pads of his fingers drew away gleaming, but never ventured far for long.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re so wet.”

“And whose fault is that,” Aziraphale snipped, though he knew they both took it as a compliment.

Indeed, Crowley preened at the accusation and bullied in closer, increasing the pressure on the lace. Aziraphale watched his hand keep busy between his thighs. Shifted his stance just a little wider to afford a slightly better view. Resolutely did not look up to see Crowley waggle an eyebrow at the audacity.

“I like seeing you so eager for it.”

If his legs weren’t framing Crowley’s, Aziraphale had half a mind to snap his legs shut on that wicked hand. But as frustrated as he was, he kept his own hands at his sides, blankets bunched tightly into his fists.

All he said was, “ _Please._ ”

Taking pity, Crowley dropped the pretence and kissed Aziraphale’s neck before delving below the sodden lace. Aziraphale gasped aloud at the first direct touch, louder still when fingers found his entrance and explored inside. An echo of a moan was breathed into his ear.

“Hellfire has nothing on the heat of you,” Crowley said. His fingers dipped in and out, distending the lace obscenely with the flex of his hand. Aziraphale whined and rocked his hips to meet them, then back again to rub against Crowley’s hard cock.

Neither of them looked away from the mirror.

“Crowley, it’s—it’s not enough.” Heavy thighs trembled with the strain of holding back. “I need you. More of you.”

“Of course. Here, lift up. I’ll give you what you want.”

When Crowley pulled back, Aziraphale tried not to feel too remorseful. As he was bade, he sat up so that Crowley could shift further down, cock positioned just so beneath him. Crowley did them the favor of reaching around to pull aside the ruined lace. Aziraphale did them the favor of sinking down.

The lewdness of seeing it happen shocked and enthralled Aziraphale in turns. Crowley’s cock was thick and firm, wet with Aziraphale’s slick—that much Aziraphale could feel as he was repeatedly thrust into—but in the mirror he could also see himself as he was taken and just how stretched and red his sex had become from Crowley’s cock, itself a lurid purple as it disappeared inside him. Slick had run down and made a mess of their thighs and the sheets, to say nothing of the remains of the knickers.

Aziraphale clenched his muscles, both felt and watched the chain reaction as his body flexed and Crowley’s responded. His cock twitched at the unsuspected pressure, tugging on Aziraphale’s folds where it was held. They both moaned in a chorus of pleasure.

Desperate for his touch, Aziraphale reached out and grabbed Crowley’s wrist, prying his hand off of his hip and back to where the call for it was greatest.

Panting, Crowley asked, “Are you almost there? What do you need?”

In truth, Aziraphale wasn’t sure if the overwhelm was from heightened pleasure or heightened sensory input; he only knew that it was so much and he needed this release more than he could ever remember doing. It felt amazing—it felt mortifying. More than anything he just needed to see them _come_.

He brought Crowley’s hand directly to his clit and held it firm. Crowley did not try to shake out of his grip even though Aziraphale distantly realized the awkward angle; merely set right to work, fingers dipping into slick and then petting across the throbbing red bud. The pattern was practiced and perfect in its familiarity. Aziraphale could focus solely on his own pleasure and revel in how well Crowley knew him.

And the mirror.

The image that they had created felt new and safe all at once. Aziraphale delighted in watching himself be pleased and to please in return. Crowley’s eyes were barely open, glazed with lust but unwilling to look away. And with one final thrust, Aziraphale got his wish to see them both succumb.

Crowley came with a punched-out keen, hips pushed as deeply as he could go. His cock throbbed and Aziraphale clenched hard, entire body tense and alight from the inside out. They shook apart through the storm of it, holding each other as a lifeline. And after long last, it broke.

When the high mellowed into a soft descent, the mirror politely returned itself to the wall while they gathered their wits and collapsed on the bed. They kicked the soiled blankets and one pair of knickers away to be dealt with later, and snuggled close to one another amidst the remaining pillows.

"What d'you think?" Crowley slurred drunkenly into Aziraphale's sweat damp hair.

Aziraphale sighed and curled in closer, shifting around until Crowley took the hint and draped an arm around his back in a loose but grounding hug.

Aziraphale answered, "I've never seen myself orgasm before."

A snort. "That much was obvious," Crowley snarked to himself, but then added when he peeked at Aziraphale’s confused expression, "You'd never of questioned yourself if you'd seen yourself like I have."

"Oh, _darling._ "

"No, stop that. I just got done buggering your brains out—it's too soon to be soppy. Give me a break."

Aziraphale would do no such thing, but he _had_ been properly seen to, and words were hard enough to string together while he continued to buzz with residual endorphins. Banter could wait until he returned to the correct frequency.

So instead he contented himself and mentally broadcasted his affection as strongly as he could, silent in the embrace of the demon who loved him just as much. Happy to have kept his promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays! :D I hope you enjoyed, and would love to hear if you did so! Thank you for reading!


End file.
